Loving someone can be hard at times. You risk a lot when you love - your heart and soul, at the least. Love is the most important and most rewarding investment you can make in another person.

Would you dare to reach inside the vault of a feral heart?Glare into the keyhole, eyes bound with intrigue...is it real what we perceive? or does the absent colour leave you lost or decieved?

The law, instead of cleansing the heart from sin, doth revive it, put strength into, and increase it in the soul, even as it doth discover and forbid it, for it doth not give power to subdue.

I am told that the proximity of punishment arouses real repentance in the criminal and sometimes awakens a feeling of genuine remorse in the most hardened heart; I am told this is due to fear.

I broke her heart and misused her trust. I lied and cheated on her. But still she loves me like the old days and patiently waiting for the day that I may feel and understand her true feelings.

It was not the sorrow of the world that broke the heart of Christ, but its wickedness. He was equal to its sorrow ... He began by being the world's healer. But what broke him was its sin.

We who have turned our lives over to Christ need to know how very much he longs to eat with us, to commune with us. He desires a perpetual Eucharistic feast in the inner sanctuary of the heart.

Whiskey burns—my throat, not a forest. Love burns—my heart, not a forest. As for the forest, it burnt itself. At least that’s what I told the police during their interrogation.

An adamant silence overcomes you when cross paths with the person that kisses your heart the second that you meet them. It balances on the edge of an indefinable unknown, unconsciously desired.

The right people love you and they will prove it by supporting you, the wrong people don't care about you and they will prove it by hurting you. Don't be with the wrong people, be smart?

She had been lost on her own and I had been lost on my own, so it was natural that once we found each other we wanted to keep being unlost with each other. But that, at heart, had made us exist.

We want who we want, right? No matter what other people say. No matter what reason or reality we’re faced with. No matter what facts our brains process. The heart’s a stubborn organ.

I’m growing a love seat in my heart. It’s leather and covered in fur, from a mix up with my cat’s back, some glue, my tongue, and my confusion over how to best clean the chair.

His mind scolded him for his stupidity and urged him to forget her but his heart had no justifications for its stand. It remained unmoved, its solidarity unaffected, its arrogance still holding.

I tried to gather all the pieces… I picked each one and fixed them so perfectly. No one could say that I was broken once, unless they see my hands, lacerated by the splinters of my heart.